


Kimi wa Dekinai Ko

by SDHSL-RarePair-Writer (Tht0neGal666)



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, Dangan Ronpa: Another Episode
Genre: Abandonment, Cheating, Child Abuse, Child Neglect, Drama, Dreams, Hate, Jataro centric, Why Did I Write This?, abortion mentions, child hate, crushed dreams, god-complex, headcannon heavy, headcannons, literally just headcannons, rawr
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-25
Updated: 2017-10-30
Packaged: 2019-01-23 01:59:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,323
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12495952
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tht0neGal666/pseuds/SDHSL-RarePair-Writer
Summary: Once there was a woman who wanted everything, and got a child instead.How horrible a tale.





	1. A Mother's Strife

She had so much to do with her life.

She was hardworking and wished to do more with her life then anyone else she knew. Her dreams were big and her head was bigger as she dreamed about everything she knew she’d accomplish; Being rich and famous and powerful and proving that she was better than all those people who dared to claim otherwise. All she had to do was find a way to prove it.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * *

She smirked as she figured it out. Of course she did, because she could do anything. She had applied for an internship at a big shot company and, against all odds, was taken under the wing of the vice president of the company. The man was older than her and charming, with blonde hair and fairy-like purple eyes. However, that wasn’t the focus of her attention. The important thing was that he was rich. Powerful. Everything that she wanted to be. And, God damn it, she would get what she wanted. She always did. So, at the moment, that meant learning more about him, his in’s and outs, and charming him until he was putty in her hands.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * 

He was american, as was obvious with his tan and his horrid accent she pretended wasn’t really that bad. He wasn’t horribly business orientated, and it seemed he was only able to hold the position because of her help sometimes, even if no one seemed to agree. They were just jealous of her. It was the only obvious answer. So, she grew closer to power as she grew closer to the man.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * *

He was in love with her. Of course he was, who could resist her charm? He bought her small gifts and gave her quick smiles and saved her a spot at meetings and had even promised to bump her to ‘assistant’, so she was payed for her efforts. He was obviously in love. Everything was just perfect.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * *

He kissed her. It tasted like victory. She had won his heart. With a smirk on her lips she was sure would have made him suspicious if her were less drunk, she led him to the bedroom. What better way to secure a relationship, make him all hers?

* * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Everyone knew you couldn’t get pregnant your first time. She couldn’t remember exactly why that was, but it was true. It had to be true. She had no interest in having a child. She had too much to do with her life. 

* * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Her stomach grew. She had been eating a bit more lately, flaunting her money. Perhaps she should cut back, and she went on a diet.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * *

A co-worker teased her for being pregnant, who’s the lucky guy? She was barely able to laugh it off as she denied the claim, earning a disbelieving glance. She left. She had work to do.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * *

She was curious and nervous, she had to admit. What if she was pregnant? A shiver went down her spine and she shook her head. No way. And yet...She still found herself buying the test and scoffing at herself for the ridiculousness of it all. 

* * * * * * * * * * * * * *

She. Was. Furious. And she couldn’t decide who she was furious with. Herself, for believing a myth she hadn’t looked into? Him, for impregnating her? She didn’t know. She couldn't know. But, she did know one thing. She had to tell him. She still hadn’t gotten a dime, she couldn’t buy her own abortion operation.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * *

She walked in on him and his secretary, the one that was rarely there but still got paid. The two of them were yacking on each other, hands all over one another as she opened the door and stood in shock. How dare he? Cheating on her with some other bitch from America? Her mouth dropped further as she realized the matching rings on their fingers; hidden beneath his gloves, but still a small bulge she should have noticed before. This was his wife. Her face went red with anger. How dare he? He played her like a fiddle, her of all people! It should have been the other way around! She stomped right up to them and threw the positive test at him like a dart, then stormed out, satisfied to hear yelling in a foreign language (english, maybe). It’s what he deserved.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * *

She received a phone call from him hours later, and felt her heart flutter. Surely he had realized the error in his ways, seen how absolutely perfect she was. He was calling her with his tail between his legs and a large sum of money for the operation as an apology and she’d be on top again. She picked the phone up with a smirk.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * *

She was fired. He had called to fire her, and inform her of a restraining order, and warn her that any further attempt to tarnish his reputation with lies would earn her no more than a lawsuit. He hung up before she could say anything, and she screamed.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * *

She went after him. She demanded that he pay for the operation. He refused. She demanded he pay child support. He refused. She begged for a kiss goodbye. He refused.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * *

She couldn’t get the operation now. People would look down on her for the act, and she didn’t have him and his money and his influence to hide behind anymore. She had nothing left besides a Child, to be born any day now that she wanted nothing to do with.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * *

She did manage to make one deal, however. In exchange for talking with his wife and claiming to have been lying with a fake test and apologizing for her justified actions, He would buy her a small house and sign a letter of recommendation. She smiled her plastic smile and nodded along.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * *

She apologized, sticking to the script she had written in her head. Her mouth was on auto pilot and her eyes were a bit glazed over as she imagined punching this woman for ruining her life.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * *

The house is small and cramped and smelled old. The wallpaper was peeling off. It was one floor, one bedroom, one kitchen/dining room, and a small living room. She would be the responsible for the rent in 5 years time. She hated the place.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * *

She gives birth at home, not able to afford the bill that came with a hospital. She hired a midwife and bought a ton of pain killers. She gives a frustrated groan as she thinks of what’s to come, and reflects on all she could have been. She doesn’t get much time, as her contractions came closer together

* * * * * * * * * * * * * *

The boy was born, and he didn’t share any more then her skin tone. He had gotten His Father’s lilac eyes and blonde hair that she found Disgusting. This boy dared to mix her perfect skin tone with a face so similar to that Bastard? She cried when she saw his face, and the midwife grinned sweetly, assuring her that the boy was born healthily. Why did nothing ever go right?

* * * * * * * * * * * * * *


	2. To Mix Love With Hate On Accident

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He was born, and it somehow gets worse.

A month after his birth, his mother had her first dream of his death. He was noisy, as always, and She simply despised him. However, He was the responsibility of the unwilling mother. So, instead of relenting to reality and simply abandoning the child, the mother indulged in the dreams of his demise.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * *

The dreams continued, sick and twisted, each more graphic and sadistically satisfying then the last. It almost didn't seem like a bad idea. But, She was a lady, and it wasn't a ladies place to kill a boy. No matter how disgusting.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * *

There was no light in his life. He lived in the darkness of his mothers room, very little if any light allowed into the space. His mother could not afford to pay for the electric bill as it was not in the deal with his Father, and she didn't dare risk opening a curtain. What if someone were to see the abomination of a child? So, he lived in darkness. He didn't mind really, he didn't know any differnt. But, maybe, this darkness was why he was so insitant on seeing colors other then the dull greens and drowning black.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Eight months into his life, he had learned to start crawling around, and it was fun. He would crawl out of his crib at night and feel around the apartment, marveling at all that he came into contact with and the colors that popped with the contact. He had been trapped in perpetuate shades of green and black, laying in the same hard space with a single pillow and thin blanket to match. The exploration introduced him to colors he couldn't hope to name.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * *

He was scolded harshly for his midnight adventures, and warned that if his beautiful mother wasn't such a lovely lady She would hit him for his behavior. This only prompted him to cry from confusion, unsure what he did wrong or what his mother meant. She only scoffed and placed him back in his bed, warning him not to leave again like He understood the words.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * *

He left again, not able to comprehend the order not to. He found a wall, and giggled as he ran his hands across it and saw a vibrant orange, though he didn't know its name. excited, he hit the wall to hear the noise of something besides his mother, ironically managing to summon her to sweep him back into black and green confinement.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * *

His mother put bars over the top of his crib. They felt like the same shade of green as all the other bars.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * *

His first word was 'hate', because he heard his mother utter it so often. She would growl it at him every chance she got, or in the middle of the night to herself, or when speaking about his 'father', whatever that was. He thought it was kind of a pretty word. It had to be, after all, it was his mother's favorite. His mother, of course, had been asleep when he finally put the letters together correctly. What a shame.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * *

His birthday came. His mother cried and laughed and screamed. He watched curiously, worriedly. His birthday went. He had no idea.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * *

He learned how to stand. It wasn't all that surprising, in hind sight, if she would admit it, though she wouldn't. He had little else to do then to try to move more, so it was only natural he learned to stand, especially when he was sleeping on such a hard surface. He gave her a bright (smug, teasing, taunting), proud smile to his mother, and she simply admitted to hating him again. He nodded, excited to hear his mother's favorite word. She must be proud.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * *

He was right, apparently. He had to be. She was happy with him. Why else would she be letting him out of his crib (cage) to stretch his legs at night, even leaving windows open for him to peek out of and lean over. It was exciting, a new canvas of colors splattered onto the city below him. The light from the stars burned his eyes, but he fell in hate (love, love was the right word, but he didn't know it) with the night sky anyway.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * *

He started to speak more, though he wasn't really able to learn many words, the same few sentences repeated to him over and over again. He grew familiar with the words 'useless' and 'deserve' and 'death' very quickly, along with many others. He spoke them with a childish innocence, unaware of exactly what he was saying. 

* * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Another year went by. Another birthday he knew nothing about. Countless holidays his mother had forgotten. and then another. And before he knew it, he was Four years old. If only he knew enough to care.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * *

That isn't completely true, however. He did receive one gift on his birthday, though he didn't know. His newest word was 'ugly', as his mother had been calling him that more and more lately. One day (that was his birthday, not that he was aware) his mother gave him a mask to wear over his face, and instructed him only to take it of to sleep. He nodded and wore it with pride, a gift from his hateful mother.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * *

His mother found a place, a day-care, to drop him off at during the day. His mother was excited, happy to (get him away from her) present him new opportunities. His mother, wonderful person she was, also managed to get herself a job, a position at the infamous Towa Company as HR. Everything was going her way, and he was happy that she was happy.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * *

She dressed him for day care because (he couldn't be trusted not to embarrass her) She was excited for him and she made sure he had his mask on right and they went outside. he started crying because seeing the sun hurt his eyes that had never seen brighter then the moon, so she picked him up and placed him in the passenger seat and they drove.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * *

The people at the daycare called him by a name he had never heard before. 'Jataro'. It was odd, it sounded odd. He was more accustomed to 'boy' and 'it' and 'you' and 'ugly' and 'child'. He wasn't sure how he felt about the new name. 

* * * * * * * * * * * * * *

He spent a lot of time at the daycare, mask strapped on tightly and brain open to new information. The children were scared of him and refused to play with him, so he spent a lot of time alone. He gained the sympathy of one worker, who gave him marker and pencils and crayons and paper, leaving him to doodle. He 'hated' it, 'hated' it so much that he thanked the man over and over again.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * *

He drew. He drew and drew and drew and drew and drew and drew and drew and drew and drew and drew and-

* * * * * * * * * * * * * *

His mother was happy with him. He would come home and sit in the corner with some things the man had given him and he would draw more, staying silent. She grinned at him, cooing about how she much preferred him when she could forget he existed. She made him dinner, letting him sit at the table for once, and happily informed him that she would be very busy and he would see very little of her. He didn't get it, but She was happy.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * *

He really didn't have much else to do. He would go to daycare, try to play with the children, be ignored, and that made him angrier then anything else. He hated being ignored, stuffed back. So, head held high, he stopped trying to talk with them. He simply sat in the back of the class and drew and drew and-

* * * * * * * * * * * * * *

The man checked on him, sometimes. He would bring a juice box and some more supplies, and Jataro (he was getting used to the name) would grin and show him what He had been up to. One day, He showed him a portrait of a girl who had spent all day napping the day before. The man was amazed, the art work looking almost photo-like, though the colors were weird and seemingly random. He told the boy he Loved it, leaving Jataro confused.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * *

The man hung his art on the wall for all to see. The girl he drew hated it. She told him as much. He beamed and thanked her. She stomped off.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * *

He still went home for most of the day, day-care only lasting until noon ad his Mother only affording until 10. She decided to enroll him in preschool, unwilling to leave him home alone with anything valuable.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * *

He went to a local Prep school, with many of the same children from daycare. In fact, many of the children from daycare walked with older kids (he had heard the word 'sibling', but didn't recognize it) to Pre-K, as they weren't far apart. His mother caught onto this quickly, and told him to walk himself to Prep. So, he followed the others like a four year old shadow as they went to school.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * *

They sat in a circle, learning how to count and learning about each other and singing songs. It was nice, and He loved learning new things from the teacher. The teacher was old and yelled a lot, and reminded him a lot of his mom. The other kids gave him weird looks for taking such a liking to the old, nasty teacher. But he was used to it by now. 

* * * * * * * * * * * * * *

He was a good student. He would do as much of his work as he could understand, and then he would draw. His favorite thing to draw was Umi, the snake that held the title of class pet. He thought the snake looked cool.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * *

The teacher asked him to stay for lunch one day and he happily listened. He didn't do much for lunch anyway. The teacher talked to him about his sentence writing, using lots of words he hadn't heard before. When he was shown to be confused, the woman scowled and handed him a paper, then told him to give it to his mother and dismissed him.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * *

He gave it to his mother. His mother yelled at him ,and he smiled. She wasn't happy with tat, and she refused to feed him diner or breakfast the next day, when she went with him to school. She wore a paper thin smile and eyes that were only angry for him. He realized, with a frown, that she wasn't happy. maybe she had never been happy with him, and he just hadn't known better. he started to cry. She told him to stop. He cried more.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * *

His mother came back. No lunch that day. No dinner either. No school until tomorrow. He would be in a new class. He wasn't sure how he felt about that.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * *

He was put into a class full of 'special' kids, as he had been told. They learned to read again and to write, and all of the kids around him were weird. He didn't really like them. He kept to himself, and drew some more.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * *

His 'Special' Art class was boring. There was a cheery old woman whom always smiled, and he went over the basics of art. drawing shapes and telling the colors apart. He felt kind of uncomfortable with that. Colors never had names before. They didn't need names. But now they had names, and he had to remember them. They learned mixing colors and a ton of other stuff he taught himself. It was boring.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * *

He got in trouble in art. A Lot. He would draw too much, drawing a sphere and a cube and a pyramid instead of a circle square and triangle. He didn't like shapes having names either. The normally cheerful lady would sneer and tell him that he was showing off and that it wasn't kind to the other students. He didn't understand. She gave him more work. She picked on him for answers that he couldn't care to remember. He didn't know the word, but he didn't like her.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Hate. Hate. Hate. The word had brought him so much comfort before, and he didn't think it ever would again. He had been reading an animal facts book because his sketch pad was empty and he wasn't going to day-care for another day, and he came across something strange. The line read; 'Some people think cats hate water, but some cats like water.'. The line implied that Hate was the opposite of like. He didn't approve of the thought, and pushed it away.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * *

"Lady?"  
"What."  
"what....does hate mean?"  
"I say it often enough stupid cow, figure it out."  
"...Do you not like me?"  
"Why on earth would I? Go to bed."

* * * * * * * * * * * * * *

His mother hated him. And he had finally learned what 'hate' means.


End file.
